


The Heartland

by Purpleskiesofdragons



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Angst with no happy ending, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Sympathetic Villains, cry like i did
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-09-26 11:01:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20388625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleskiesofdragons/pseuds/Purpleskiesofdragons
Summary: How curious humans and their wild inventions can be when presented with unparalleled resistance to everything. When the world ends, what else to do but start anew?Humankind was left with two things: a terribly selfish mind, and a radiation-corrupted heart. And with those devices, born from death and darkness, arose a society called the Heartland.





	1. PROLOGUE

How curious humans and their wild inventions can be when presented with unparalleled resistance to everything. When the world ends, what else to do but start anew?

Humankind was left with two things: a terribly selfish mind, and a radiation-corrupted heart. And with those devices, born from death and darkness, arose a society called the Heartland. 

***

They called her an anomaly. Abandoned as a child, she had been given to scientists in the Heartland for experiment; unwanted things always had a purpose, though it remained unimportant as to what that purpose was. After years in stasis and a great deal of study, the first human child with two hearts emerged from her five-year slumber, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the bright lights of the lab. Two hearts, the scientists reasoned, could surely overpower the sickness in the brain. Her name was Sanah, and by seventeen, she was searching for her own purpose.

They called him a monster. He was one of the few unwanted that  had a purpose—like everyone did— but his existence was seemingly only for causes of scorn and mockery. For, in the Heartland, it was a curse, a terrible disease, to be without a heart. Because with only one vital device in function, how would one survive? They had the possibility to live, of course, but the fact that they could not share their secrets and feelings with someone, could only rely on a selfish mind to decide— that was a true horror to behold. So he was abandoned by society, his one true quest being to find something, anything, that could resemble the one thing he never had. His name was Yaru, and by twenty-six, he was searching for a heart. 


	2. SANAH

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._   
  
It was the same staccato every day, repeating for hours on end. Sanah could lay there, too, for hours on end, gazing up at the ceiling as she absently stroked the long scar down her abdomen, schoolwork forgotten. She was constantly hounded by reporters, interviewers, even stalkers who were anxious to get a peek at the famed girl who'd emerged from a lab, at five, with two simultaneously beating hearts nestled in her chest. Case in point, when, at that moment, a stone hit her window with a sharp plink before gravity pulled it back into the long grass in front of Sanah's apartment.    
  
Sanah sighed. While most people had the sense not to invade her privacy, there was still the nuisances who had no such boundaries. The scientists who'd silver spoon-fed her her fame inhabited practically her whole building, and constantly monitored visitors to the apartment, but she could never be too careful. Several close brushes with kidnapping and armed attack had made Sanah more wary, so she heaved herself from her bed, tugging her shirt down, and went to peek out of the window.    
  
Her newest stalker (or so she assumed) was standing on the sidewalk outside, wearing a long tan coat despite the heat. The stranger was a woman with flaming auburn hair, so bright that even foxes would envy the color. Sanah smiled slightly from the windowsill as she waited for the guards to arrive.    
  
Arrive they did, in a stunningly loud fashion. An armed squadron burst out of the bottom floor not a minute later, and surrounded the woman.    
  
"State your business," barked an official with a buzzcut, prodding her with his rifle. "What do you want with this establishment?" Sanah raised an eyebrow, impressed, when the woman barely reacted to the jab, and instead cooly pushed the muzzle of the gun down. Sanah cracked her window open slightly so she could hear the woman's reply.    
  
"I'm just here to talk to Sanah," she said in a voice, surprisingly deep for a woman but no less sharp than one. "Pat me down as much as you'd like— I'm unarmed, and it will stay that way the entire time I am in the presence of this building. If you would allow me to talk to Sanah in private, that would be exceptional."    
  
"You already have classified information," the guard grunted back, narrowing his eyes. "Where did you get it?"    
  
"It's not hard to find," the woman scoffed, already shrugging off her coat and handing it to the guards for inspection. "I only had to do a bit of digging past the pompous 'Miracle' title you gave her." The guard bristled slightly, but allowed his squadron to pat down the jacket and moved to inspect the woman. She obediently moved hardly an inch as he inspected every possible place she could be hiding anything— even in some places that Sanah was surprised that the woman even let him look— but he turned up empty in his search.   
  
"You may enter, but remember, guards and cameras are everywhere," he warned. "One wrong move and you'll be fed to the Heart." The woman's eyes flashed briefly, but she nodded curtly and allowed herself to be pushed toward the entrance of the building.    
  
Sanah snapped her window closed and vaulted back onto her bed, reaching for the pocketknife always hidden under her pillow and sliding the sheathed blade into the folds of her own jacket pocket. She reclined back onto her pillows, wondering what threat would appear next. An assassin, maybe? Spy? The possibilities were endless, but it didn't matter when they left the apartment— dead or alive.    
  
The door was rapped upon sharply, twice in perfect succession. Sanah slid off the bed and went to answer the door, a small excited pit bubbling in her stomach. The woman stood in the doorstep, her otherwise emotionless face cracking a hint of a smile.    
  
"May I come in?" she asked. Sanah nodded and let her pass, directing her over to the couch. The woman sat neatly and crossed her legs, eyes silently roving over Sanah. Sanah, as procedure demanded, sat on a chair across from her, and took her knife out, flipping the blade between her hands. The woman's eyebrows raised slightly, but she didn't comment.    
  
"Let's start— who are you?" Sanah asked.    
  
"I am Tahroe Linjar, though you may call me Tahroe," she replied. "Would you mind making us some tea? I do believe interviews more proper when there are refreshments." Sanah masked her surprise and stood, leaving the woman to pull out a kettle and her teabags. An admittedly strange request, but then again, she'd had stranger before.    
  
As she waited for the kettle to boil, Tahroe spoke again.    
  
"How do you like having two hearts?" she asked. "It's well-known that you were surgically implanted with your second. Can you feel the other person's?" Sanah shook her head.    
  
"I don't feel them often," she replied. "I feel the scar more often than I feel the beats of the hearts."    
  
"Do you consider them a blessing?"    
  
"No, not really."    
  
"So, if you had a choice, would you remove the second heart?" Tahroe asked. Sanah froze, and turned slowly to fix her gaze with the woman's steady one.    
  
"What do you mean?" she asked carefully.    
  
"I mean, if you wanted a normal life, would you remove your second one?" Tahroe repeated.    
  
"I..." Sanah floundered for an answer. Admittedly, yes, she wished that that she didn't have the burden of fame thrown over her shoulders, but she wouldn't dare tell a stranger that. "I don't know."    
  
"You do know," Tahroe said quietly. "I can see it in every muscle of your body. The absent rubbing of the laceration running down your torso. You don't want to be a caged animal for everyone to look at in wonder." She paused. "Sometimes you wonder if you even wanted a life, because you never wanted what you perceive life to be."    
  
"Stop," Sanah hissed, her fists clenching. How could this woman read every inch of what she'd been thinking for past twelve years? That was impossible. Maybe she was some stalker, or—   
  
"I'm not a stalker," Tahroe said calmly, faint amusement coloring her voice. "I just know how to observe. And besides, I would never put a spotlight on a girl like you so young. Apart from your scar, if the media hadn't drawn attention to it, no one would have known except your partner." Sanah was loathe to admit that perhaps Tahroe spoke truth; the thought was evident in her movements as she poured the boiling water into mugs, not caring if some splashed out, and viciously dunked in the teabags.    
  
"What do you want?" Sanah asked tightly as she walked back into the living room, setting down one of the mugs in front of Tahroe. "And no, it's not poisoned, but I wish it were." Tahroe gave a short laugh and picked up the tea, taking a slow sip.   
  
"Have you ever heard about the Atrioventricular?" she asked. Sanah shook her head. "It's a society— the Atrio for short— that monitors the Fallen. Those who don't have a heart, or have became a donor for those who need one. You are well aware of the effects of not having a heart, yes?" Sanah shivered; she knew very well. It was a slow descent into madness; the heartless would have no connection to any emotions, and would fall into paranoia and eventually set out on a relentless quest to find the heart they'd lost. It was sad indeed, but why had they even agreed to become donors if they couldn't handle it? Even more so, why did so many Fallen continue to try and track her down, as if she had their heart? The thought was ridiculous-- obviously, it would have been with the government, not her.   
  
"I am aware," she replied. Tahroe gave a satisfied nod.    
  
"Then you know that you are in danger, yes?" she queried. Sanah raised her eyebrows; no, she didn't. Surely, the squadron would have warned her...? "You don't know about this because your so-called protectors want you shielded from anything risky. They want to keep the fact that the heartless are rising under wraps."    
  
"Rising?"    
  
"Yes," Tahroe said grimly. "While their motive is unclear, they are growing in number, rapidly, and they are targeting those with hearts. Particularly, the higher-ups, the founders of science departments, and the very support stones that The Heartland relies on, which is why they must be stopped. That's why I— and the Atrio— need your help."    
  
"Wouldn't I be targeted for having a second heart?" Sanah asked skeptically. The woman smiled, properly, and steepled her fingers together around her cup, drumming them on the ceramic with a pleased smile.    
  
"I sought you out because you have more potential than you know what to do with," she said. "It might not seem like it, when you're just sitting here, trying to resist slitting that pocketknife down your scar to see if you slice your burden right out, but you are more valuable than you know."    
  
"And I assume that you want to use me?" Sanah concluded dryly. "Sorry, but no. I'm not falling for your lies."    
  
"Say what you will," Tahroe replied coolly. "Though the scientists made you for money, and your guards pervertedly watch your every move, you're worth more than what you think. Come find me at my vein when you decide. Until then, may your heart be forever hale." Tapping her hand twice over her heart, in the gesture of respect used all over The Heartland, Tahroe stood, polishing off the last of her tea and walking toward the door.    
  
Sanah watched her be escorted away with mounting confusion, and wondering if the mysterious opportunity was reason enough to take a leap that she never knew that she might need.    



	3. SANAH, II

Sanah, for what seemed to be the third time, woke in the middle of the night to the rapidfire blasts of repulsor guns. A second’s worth of listening helped her identify the type; judging by the mix of loud blasts and quiet whines in between those, her attackers had a mix of the louder assault repulsors, and quieter, deadlier Heart Attacks, or HAKs for short. The first model was often used for destroying structures, or something smaller depending on the size of the beam, but it could cause severe harm to a person if used against them. The HAKs though… Sanah shivered. 

HAKs had been invented around two years ago, and by the first month of their implementation, they promised to be some of the deadliest weapons after the Break, the catastrophic nuclear disaster two decades ago that had ended the world in three days. The HAK, if aimed right, could stop a person’s heart in seconds. While most of the human population remaining didn’t rely on hearts, rather a nuclear-power corroded ball that had taken over the organ, the HAK could nonetheless destroy both the ball and organ, including the surrounding nerves in seconds, thus achieving the “Heart Attack” title. 

Now, sitting with her sheets tangled around her legs, hearts pounding, and her hand reaching for her pocket knife, Sanah wondered if this was the last assault she’d encounter.  _ Would she die? Not a very, say, exciting way to go out, I guess. Oh well. _

Sanah braced herself as footsteps began to thunder up the stairs, and she silently tightened the grip on her pocket knife, but there was no need. The heavy thunk of a metal object resounded against her door as the footsteps retreated again, quicker than before. Sanah froze, listening for the telltale tear gas that the scientists had warned her about, and sure enough, a low hissing was beginning to sound in Sanah’s ears. During the Break Wars, invisible tear gas had been invented, making it almost impossible to detect. _Are these people walking armories or something? _

Sanah moved to cover her mouth, but the advanced tear gas worked faster than she’d remembered; her vision was already beginning to blur into a gray mass, and a familiar burning, watery sensation began to seep in. BItterly, she remembered the first time she’d been tear gassed, and it had been one of the most unpleasant sensations in her life. She’d hoped to never experience it again, but then there she was. 

_ When was the last time I breathed? Three second? Five minutes? Ten hours? I can’t remember.  _

Briefly, she remembered when she’d been attacked in the middle of the night, not unlike this attack, except her attacker had chosen to use force rather than gas. She remembered the unyielding grasp, the rapid exit of her ability to breathe, the sheer panic as she was pressed against the wall, and her vision slowly going black at the edges. There was also the screeching whine of an AK-47 as her attacker flew across the room, a morbidly pretty spray of red arcing across her face when he fell. Sanah laughed deliriously, despite the burning tears dripping down her face and the struggle to breathe. There was no bang now, she would just go to sleep… that was it… a quick nap would set all her problems right… 

Distantly, she heard, “You idiots! You didn’t need the whole container!” The voice was familiar. Did Sanah remember that voice? 

_ Did she remember…  _

_ Did she…  _

_ The voice…  _

_ Voice… _

_ Remember… _

  
———

When Sanah awoke, she was falling through pitch-darkness. After a brief moment of confusion, panic set in, and Sanah was embarrassed to say that as she fell, she had held absolutely no regard for dignity whatsoever as she screamed her throat raw and wildly flailed her arms. There was nothing to hold onto, nothing to see, nothing to determine what was up or down or sideways.

_ Where was I? Where am I? What— _

With little warning, the blackness shied away abruptly to reveal bright, irritating, obnoxious red,  _ everywhere _ , as if a bucket of firehouse-red paint had been thrown in her face and coated her vision red. A heartbeat later, she hit the ground with a horrible thump, and heard something crack ominously. Muffling a scream, Sanah scrubbed furiously at her eyes, ignoring the tear gas burn (she just needed to  _ see _ , was that too hard to ask?) until a pair of firm hands caught hers and tugged them away. 

“The change is abrupt, but it’s supposed to be red,” a familiar voice said, sounding exasperated. “You’re going to ruin your vision if you keep clawing at your eyes.” Slowly, Sanah peeled her eyes open to come face-to-face with Tahroe. The woman looked unbothered that Sanan had been attacked, gassed, and most likely had a broken _something_. 

“Tear gas has nasty effects on the eyes. Be careful if you don’t want to lose your vision permanently,” chided Tahroe. “Give you eyes a few moments to rest.” 

“‘Give them a few moments?’” Sanah spluttered. _Ouch. Throat. Don’t do that again_. “You’re talking about tear gas like it’s putting in eye drops. What did you _do_?” 

“I took you to our headquarters without arousing suspicion,” Tahroe said matter-of-factly. “You cannot be seen going willingly with us, incase it prompts some national scandal, but we just blended in with the paramedics and took you from there.”

“So that whole ‘I’m giving you a choice to stay with my kidnapping cult?’ talk was just pure nonsense?” Sanah spat back incredulously. “I didn’t ask to be kidnapped, nor do I want to join your  _ vein tribe _ .” Tahroe stared back impassively (emotion wasn’t  _ that _ hard,  _ come on _ ), but if Sanah squinted hard enough, she thought she could make out faint offense in the woman’s brown eyes. 

“Would you have preferred to be attacked in a more violent way by the heartless? I’m sure I could arrange it if you’d like to die earlier than, say, a few years.” Sanah scowled. In response, a little plastic bottle thunked against her head. “Here. These are eyedrops and should help with the sting in your eyes. It would be a shame if you missed out on the ‘vein tribe.’” Tahroe emphasized the last two words with air quotes as she rolled her eyes. Grudgingly, Sanah unscrewed the bottle and tipped a few drops into either eye, noting with relief that the burning faded into a dull ache. 

“Now you can see our city,” Tahroe said, pleased, when Sanah had passed the eye drops back to her, blinking excess liquid out of her eyes. Her sight had already been to clear, revealing the room around her. She and Tahroe were sitting in a large dome, with intense dark red-tinted glass forming the walls of the structure. Odd little veins of blue, almost like cracks, were spread in lightning shapes all over the dome; Sanah supposed that they were meant to represent veins. 

Pushing to her feet, Sanah attempted to cross to the window, but an odd pulsing rhythm below her feet sent her back down to the ground. Her first thought had been an earthquake, but upon further inspection (and much to her horror) the floor was quite literally beating as a heart would. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tahroe bite back a snort as the woman stood up easily, moving to one wall to tap out some intricate code. A few seconds later, much to Sanah’s relief, the floor slid to a halt. Sanah nodded her thanks (Tahroe pretended not to notice) as she made her way over to the window. 

Sanah had been expecting the Atrioventricular headquarters to be a system of caves, maybe a few dwellings here and there, but her expectations had been incredibly off. Instead, a gleaming city greeted her, buildings shaped out of long, twisting red columns and arcing far up into the ceiling. Smaller buildings, some of the color of rose quartz and others a deep garnet red, were scattered all around the columns; it was clear that the whole underground society was practically bursting with life. Sanah tipped her head up toward the top of the dome and caught her breath when she saw thousands of softly glowing white lanterns floating around what must be the top of the massive cavern. More of the white lanterns were serenely drifting around the columns as well. 

“Like what you see?” Tahroe asked from behind her. Sanah nodded and turned to face the woman, noticing the content expression on the woman’s face, and had a strange feeling that she wouldn’t see this side often. “It’s such a beautiful place-- I pity that others don’t have more sense, or else they’d come here.” Shaking her head, Tahroe moved forward to press her hand against the glass, smiling wistfully at the bustling city below. 

“Welcome to the Atriorealm.” 


	4. SANAH, III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that this is late :( I update on Sundays, btw ^^

“So, what do you already know about the heartless?” Sanah took a small sip of her coffee— it tasted a bit strange, but given that the Break Wars had destroyed most of the staples, people had learned to live and innovate with what they had. They were sitting in a cafe at the very top of one of the columns, where Sanah could see a view of the whole city. As Tahroe spoke, a lantern slowly bobbed by the window. 

“They’re people without a heart,” Sanah said. “It’s rarer for people to be born naturally born without a heart, and uncommon but not unlikely to donate your heart for science.” Tahroe nodded, directing another question at her.

“You weren’t alive for the Break Wars, were you?” Sanah shook her head; she’d heard a lot about it, and was well-educated from her weekly history lessons by the scientists, but had been born eighty years after the Wars. 

To her knowledge, humans, before the Break Wars, had evolved and innovated to such a point where resources were being used up by the ten millions every hour. In the struggle for the greatest stockhold of resources, cities rebelled, governments had fallen, and the people started a free-for-all war, unlike any World War the world had ever seen. Among the raging chaos, there were terrifying inventions being created en-masse (the ever-notorious Heart Attacks, the nation-leveling P.O.W.E.R cannon, tear gas bombs, that, once the gas was inhaled, could knock out in less than ten seconds), soldiers rising, with little moral code (Captain Greene, whose prowess with guerilla warfare and deadly aim left thousands dead in a day; Lady Ace, the stealthy and notoriously clever assassin who specialized in poison; and Wright Einsenfeld, whose terrifying serums snatched away one’s will in a single sip; among others), and war strategies that took no account for civilian casualties (nearly half of West United States had been demolished in an hour by several well-placed nuclear bomb, and Brazil, which had been occupied and taken over as a military base, fell in three). There had always been the brave ones trying to piece the world back together, trying to band together to stop the fighting, but in the end, it didn’t matter. 

When, on the ninety-first day of the Wars (nicknamed as such for the spread of fighting across one hundred and forty-five nations), one of the largest bombs in history demolished South America, the fallout of which ruined its northern counterpart. With the sheer nuclear chaos, coupled with the ceaseless fighting, the growing bloodbath began to lap its edges against the destruction of the world. Nearly the entire planet had been rendered uninhabitable, and five days later after the Americas had fallen, when the dust had settled, the remains of Australia and pieces of the surrounding islands stood, shivering in the rubble. The surviving population described the virtual apocalypse as the “Break Wars,” and set about rebuilding their world, striking out toward New Zealand, which had been virtually untouched by the war raging around it. Born from such work, the Heartland was born..

“The Break Wars were where most of the Heartless came from,” Tahroe said grimly, drawing Sanah back to the present. “To relieve someone of a life function— expendable but still important— was a popular tactic. The Heartless grew in an alarming number by that point, though, in the last five years of the wars, the population growth of Heartless slowed when HAKs were invented.” Sanah nodded mutely, taking another sip, and tried to forget the ghost whine of HAKs and the thud of bodies falling to the apartment floor below.

“So you want me to commit to your cause,” Sanah summarized finally. “You want me to, what, be some glorified dancing monkey for you? Run around shirtless, proudly showing off my scar? Is that it?” 

“No,” Tahroe replied, her eyes narrowing. _ Ha. So I can hit nerves, after all_. “Because you have two hearts, you need to learn to take advantage of them. Your doubly-charged nuclear core is more powerful than you think.” Sanah continued to eye the woman skeptically, still unconvinced that this was anything more than a creative kidnapping attempt. 

Tahroe stood suddenly, her chair grating back with a screech, and beckoned to Sanah. 

“If you won’t listen to my reason, perhaps you can see why you need to be protected,” she said shortly. “Come.” Reluctantly, Sanah stood, nodding to the waitress and following Tahroe out the door. She hadn’t noticed it before, but the column (dubbed the A Tower; each letter of Atrioventricular had a column to match) was surprisingly beautiful, with abstract art and veins of lapis lazuli inscribed through the walls. There was a single staircase down the middle of the tower, of which they were currently walking down, half-moon shaped rooms branching off the stairway. If not for the strangeness of it all, Sanah might have admitted that it was pretty. That she wanted to explore it for just a little while longer. 

They walked down the multiple flights of stairs until Tahroe tugged her into a large room that Sanah supposed was a hangar. Glass walls overlooked the city, with steel docks connecting to the thousands of exits ports along the wall. By far the most fascinating, however, was the the vehicles lined up at said ports— little pods that resembled the lanterns floating around the columns. The walls were emanating a soft glow, presumably to mimic the lanterns. Tahroe walked over to one of the pods, where a young man was standing beside it, and conversed briefly with him before dropping a few coins into his hand. He dipped his head and stepped back, gesturing to the open pod. 

“Come, Sanah,” Tahroe called. “I’ve lent us a pod. It’ll be your first ride around here.” Sanah obediently followed her to the craft, silently marveling at the sleek oblong design. The Atrio seemed to be extremely invested in their lanterns, as shown by the multiple structures around the city based off their design. 

Tinted glass also seemed to be a thing with the Atrio; when Sanah stepped inside, she realized that the whole pod was like a huge bubble, with two-way glass that let passengers inside see outside. Tahroe took the driver’s seat and gestured for Sanah to take one of the three passenger seats, one beside the driver and two behind. Sanah chose a backseat. 

Tahroe was muttering to herself as she fiddled with a few buttons, pulled down a lever or two, and finally hit the ignition. Sanah squeaked in surprise as the pod rose above the ground, hovering a calm foot above the landing pad. 

“I hope you don’t have motion sickness,” Tahroe called. Sanah had only a brief moment to wonder what she was talking about before Tahroe swiveled the craft to the exit and shot out. Sanah barely held back a scream as they rocketed straight down, dodging other pods whizzing by at lightspeed. Tahroe, on the other hand, gave a small chuckle and steered the pod toward one of the columns against the far walls of the cavern, where Sanah noticed that there seemed to be an excess of black pods surrounding a column. 

“They’re guards,” Tahroe explained as she slowed the craft (_ finally _ ). “This is a high-security containment section— are you hiding your pocketknife still?” Sanah fumbled at her pockets for her familiar little knife, but it must have fallen out of her pocket when she was kidnapped. _ Yay._ She shook her head. 

A security pod pulled up beside them as they neared a long landing ramp. Tahroe tugged a lever down and the pod’s door opened; a second later, a guard dressed in all black with red lapels entered the craft, hefting a HAK under one arm. 

“Please surrender your weapons for detainment,” he ordered. “Any kind of gun, knife, repulsor, or other pain device is strictly prohibited in the Containment. Resistors will be shot.” He tapped his finger against the trigger for emphasis. 

Tahroe nodded curtly and lifted up her shirt, revealing a HAK pistol and two dagger strapped across her chest, and began to unbuckle them. When they were safely in the guard’s arms, she turned to her belt and unhooked a second HAK pistol, twelve tiny darts and a blowgun, and what looked to be a vial of poison. Sanah buried a laugh as the guard’s lips thinned, his expression growing darker as Tahroe moved on to her jacket pockets (there must have been at least seven, all with some kind of weapon hidden inside), boots (a concealer for two long daggers), and finally, a very thin stiletto from her hair. 

“Are you done?” the guard asked as Tahroe was removing tiny pins from her sleeves. Tahroe flashed him a smile, handed him a tiny grenade that had been disguised as a coat button, and gave him a thumbs up. Looking slightly murderous, the guard dumped the cache into a large bin and hauled it into his own craft, flapping his hand in a “go” motion. Tahroe yanked the door closed again as soon as the pod floated away. 

“Are you normally this… well armed?” Sanah asked, blinking. Tahroe turned around, flashed her a small wink, and held up a paring knife. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me just say, I love the “endless weapons” trope to death


	5. SANAH, IV

Sanah had never seen detention cells so quiet. She’d expect the corridor to be ringing with shouts, or something of that nature, but it was deadly silent. Eerily so. 

“Why is no one talking?” she stage-whispered to Tahroe, who was looking tense as she strode down the corridor. 

“Why should they talk?” Tahroe replied, her voice icy. “They coerced each other to get behind this ridiculous cause; they can’t use their silver tongues any longer.” She stopped in front of an occupied cell, frowning down at the prisoner inside. “Animals, the lot of them.” She tapped on the glass for emphasis. “The cells are thick glass, reinforced with steel bars around the sides. We use muzzles and limb restrictions so that they can’t try to hurt anyone else.” Sanah swallowed a bubble of nausea as she saw the occupant of the cell. 

The prisoner was a man, his hair disheveled and long cuts running down his face. One of his eyes had been decimated by what looked like a well-aimed HAK. A metal muzzle stretched across the lower half of his face, the sides digging into his cheeks. The most horrifying part, however, was the cavity where his heart would have been located. Most people had chest plates to guard their heart, but his had been crudely hacked away, exposing the empty socket.

“Look at him,” Tahroe said softly. “An animal. A ruthless creature. He attacked the Capitol armed with five HAKs, shot down fourteen civilians, and was attempting to carve out their hearts by the time we were able to detain him.”    
  


“Why-- how did he get into the Atriorealm?” Sanah asked, sickened. Tahroe’s mouth thinned. 

“Murder,” she replied. Tahroe looked as though she was going to add to the thought, when a crash thundered through the quiet halls, causing the woman to whip around in surprise. 

A prisoner had thrown her body at the glass wall separating her from the walkway, and had somehow managed to rip her gag off. She looked to be, in all definitions, mad, with a large bruise forming over one eyebrow and a cut cheek. 

“Entitled fools!” she screamed. Sanah noted with horrified fascination that the cut stretched oddly as her mouth moved.“You, prancing around acting like you’re the best in the world, when in reality, you chain innocent people up like animals and leave them in  _ kennels _ to die!” 

“Innocent?” Tahroe countered coldly. “Does murder qualify for innocence?” 

“It was self-defense,” the woman hissed back. “ _ You _ showed up ten minutes late.  _ You _ didn’t see how they treated him, or how they were threatening to kill him and his family. His children. He was doing it because he had to.” 

“There is no justification for murder,” Tahroe said, crouching down until she was at eye level with the woman. “What do you hope to gain by stealing another’s heart?”

“A chance at life,” she spat back. Her gaze flicked up, probably to look past Tahroe for guards, but her eyes landed on Sanah and promptly widened in outrage. 

“You thief!” she shouted, a renewed vigor edging her voice. Sanah flinched back, unease growing at the woman’s crazed eyes, the whites of which were shot through with burst blood vessels. “How dare you bring that  _ abomination _ here? She has two hearts. Two. Imagine the children you could have saved with those.” 

“I am not an abomination,” Sanah hissed. The woman laughed bitterly. 

“Oh, sure,” she mocked. “You think you’ve got it bad. Oh, no, reporters are attacking me! Oh, no, I got pushed into a bush when I was eight because I was _ too pathetic to defend myself. _ Oh, no, I want to just lay down and  _ die _ because clearly, fame is too much for my pretty little head.” The woman spat distastefully. “If I were you, I’d lay down and let the Heartless gouge out my hearts-- they need them more than you ever have.  _ Filth _ !” Sanah reeled back as the woman continued to laugh, shaking and muttering madly to herself. All of her words, however, had faded into white noise as the woman’s insults began to circulate through Sanah’s head. 

_ I was too pathetic to defend myself. _

_ Just lay down and die.  _

_ They need them more.  _

_ Filth.  _

“Sanah!”  _ Tahroe’s voice?  _ Sanah didn’t reply.  _ Pathetic. Lay down and die. Abomination. Filth _ . “Sanah, listen to me!” 

“Listen to me,” the woman mocked. “Listen to her, filth! Scum! Bane of the earth! The worst creation to grace this earth!” 

“Shut up!” roared Tahroe. Sanah gasped, broken out of her thoughts as the woman’s door was forcefully thrown open, a sickening crack following the sound. She dared a look toward the woman’s cell, expecting the same terrible bloodshot eyes, but was only met with Tahroe, standing breathlessly over the woman’s unconscious body. 

“That’s enough,” Tahroe snarled at the woman, though Sanah doubted she could hear her. Turning back to Sanah, her eyes softened slightly. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m worthless,” Sanah whispered. “She wasn’t wrong.” 

“She  _ was _ wrong,” Tahroe insisted, walking forward to tug Sanah closer to her. Sanah tried not to meet the woman’s eyes, but it was impossible to shy away from intense gaze. “Sanah, she was pointing out what she thought was wrong. You’re perfect, Sanah. You have a purpose.” She cast a scornful look at the prisoner’s body, lip curling in disgust. “That woman never had a purpose. She only existed to spit on your shoes and polish them. That’s all she was.” 

“But she-- the hearts--” 

“What good is raising a new generation bent on murder?” Tahroe interrupted. “Sanah, you are not useless. Let me show you why.” She drew back the folds of her jacket to reveal a single, pen-sized HAK, and handed it to Sanah. “Get rid of the problem, Sanah,” she said softly. “You were born to serve a glorious purpose; she was not. Servants and underlings like her are the worthless ones, and shouldn’t escape punishment for their misbehavior. So  _ give it to her. _ ” Sanah’s hands shook as the cold metal was slipped into her hand. What was she even doing? She was going to  _ murder _ someone--

“I don’t want to kill,” she whispered. “I-- I can’t.” 

“Sanah. Do you want her to haunt you like this forever?” Tahroe demanded. Sanah shook her head mutely. “Good. Then aim it, right at the cavity. Your problems will go away just like that.” Tahroe slowly circled behind her, taking Sanah’s wrist in one hand and aiming the HAK towards the unconscious woman. “ _ Bang _ ,” she whispered. 

_ A flash of red. An AK-47. That  _ would _ make things better, wouldn’t it? _

“That would make things better, wouldn't it,” Sanah murmured aloud. 

“That would make things better,” Tahroe agreed, moving Sanah’s finger onto the trigger. 

_ Bang. _


End file.
